I, Captive
by Channel D
Summary: What if, in "Kill Ari  part II ", Ari had decided to take Ducky hostage longterm? Would Ducky come to know his captor better? AU drams, written for the NFA Stockhom Syndrome challenge. Four chapters plus an epilogue; now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**I, Captive**  
><strong>by channeld<strong>

_written for_: the NFA _Stockholm Syndrome_ challenge. The aim of the challenge was to have one of the NCIS characters fall victim to the Stockholm Syndrome. In this medical condition, a captive starts to identify with or sympathize with his or her captor(s).  
><em>rating<em>: K plus  
><em>featuring<em>: Ducky and Ari  
><em>genre<em>: drama; an AU or "what if?" revision of _Kill Ari (part II)_

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><p>disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS.<p>

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

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><p>"Wait—this was where you were to let me out, was it not?"<p>

"A change in plans," his abductor said, without a trace of a sneer or smirk.

Ducky settled back in the passenger seat; an almost imperceptible settling, but he could feel it in his mind. This was an unpleasant turn.

Unpleasant, and portentous.

* * *

><p>He thought back. He'd come, at Ari's phone call. Ari was holding Gerald, but would let him go if Ducky would take his place. <em>It is a foolish proposition, but that's what a civilized man is; one who respects the sanctity of the lives of his friends. A romantic fool, who acts without hesitation.<em> Now Gerald had been let go.

"I am not your final goal, am I?" Ducky asked, his mouth working unwillingly. Was it better to stay silent? Or would that seem cowardly. Ari didn't answer.

"I am nothing to you," Ducky continued. "Surely you know that NCIS does not pay ransom for hostages. You are after a bigger fish." Still no answer.

"You are after Gibbs. You want this one more substitution."

Ari's lips twitched, finally. "And why would I want that?"

"To settle a score. Or to ratchet up the terror level. You see Gibbs as being more of an equal. My death would cause NCIS distress, but the execution of someone on Gibbs' level would be tantamount to a provocation of war."

"Are we not always at war, Doctor? People say they hope for peace, as if this is the normal state of the universe. I would differ. _War_ is the norm. Protecting what is one's own, is the norm."

"We do not need to be enemies. Were fighting the natural state, we would not be predisposed to make friends."

Ari didn't reply for a few minutes. Just as Ducky was starting to get twitchy in the silence, Ari said, "You said I was after Gibbs. I was, I admit. But that plan now seems too easy. I have made a change."

"And that would be…?"

His captor only smiled as he drove. "You will see."

* * *

><p>As Ari drove, on and on into the rainy night, Ducky lapsed into silent fear. While he tried to content himself with thinking Gerald is safe, he found his mind wandering to his own situation. <em>Ari was going to let me go…alive, I think…to confront Jethro. Jethro would have a good chance of bettering Ari. All would have ended well. And now…<em>

_…I can't guess what will transpire. The longer he has me, the less likely he is to release me._

_Every moment that I have to spend with this unconscionable criminal is a moment closer to my own end. I'd try to get away if I thought it could produce good results, but he is too young, too fast, and likely too sure a shot._

_…still, if my death can save others, it would be worth it._

_If only I get a chance…_

* * *

><p>When the car stopped hours later, it was at a remote, darkened house in the countryside. Ducky had watched the route and knew that they were in eastern Pennsylvania. <em>Who do I know here? That would be how Mother would approach this problem. To whom can I turn to help here? No one, sadly; no one…<em> Mother!

In suddenly memory, he cried out. "You must let me go! My mother…she is quite elderly, and she depends upon me." When Ari only chuckled, Ducky raged, "Have you no decency, man? No decency at all?"

"Not in how you would measure it, Doctor."

"What, then, fuels you? What are you striving for?"

"My cause. There is nothing that means more to me. Not family, not any individual person. They are insignificant. Get out of the car, and welcome to your new…'home'."

* * *

><p>Ari turned on the lights and then led Ducky to a bedroom on the second floor. It was quite tastefully furnished, Ducky noted, and only had the faintest whiff of being closed off a bit too long. There was no radio nor TV, but it had a bookcase with old-looking books. Some amenities were seen: an <em>en suite<em> bathroom, complete with shower, a minifridge, and microwave oven. A less appealing item, Ducky noticed, was the lock on the door…set to lock someone in.

"And just how long are you planning on keeping me here?" Ducky challenged.

"As long as it takes. No more, no less. There are canned foods in the cupboard. Help yourself. I will bring you other meals from time to time, when I remember." He laughed, and went away, longing the door behind him.

Ducky sank down on the bed, and then got up, his curiosity too strong. "Hmm, yes, this is nice," he said, pulling a book off its shelf.

* * *

><p><em>"Nothing, Jethro? You have no clues?"<em>

Gibbs coughed to get his dry throat working. He stood under a shop's canopy; the cold rain dribbling close by as he held his phone. "No, Jen. Based on his pattern, I thought Haswari would release him. It's _me_ he wants. I'm here. But he's not."

The Director shot back, _"And he has a defenseless old man hostage. We take better care of our own than this, Agent Gibbs. Find him—fast!"_

She'd broken the connection before Gibbs could respond. _Believe me, Jen, there's nothing more that I want to do._

So far, though, Ari had left no clues. They didn't even know what he was driving, to have spirited Ducky away. He was known to have a motorcycle, but…Gibbs couldn't picture Ducky as a passenger on a motorcycle for too long. Either he'd fall off or try to jump off and escape…and in either case the idea was ugly.

_Ari is after me, and he's going at it through my people._ He pulled his phone back off its clip. "DiNozzo—"

_"Yeah, boss? You got Ducky?"_ Tony's voice was full of almost childlike trust. Trust that his boss would make things right.

Gibbs sighed. Maybe this was too much to ask, but it was all he could do for now. "No. I don't know where he, or Haswari, are yet."

_"I could—"_

"Right now the best thing you all can do is stay together. Watch each other's backs. That means you, McGee, David, Gerald, Abby, and Palmer, too."

_"Wow, that's some house party, boss!"_

Gibbs frowned at Tony's attempt at levity. "I mean it. _Nobody_ should be alone. I'm putting you in charge of the others. You can all stay at HQ if that feels safest, but let me know if you decide to go somewhere else. Ya got that?"

_"Got it,"_ Tony said quietly. _"I won't let Ari get any of them. I swear it."_

* * *

><p>It was another matter to deal with Ducky's elderly, bewildered mother. She hadn't understood why her devoted Donald hadn't come home. She wouldn't leave the house she'd lived in for many years; refusing to go with strangers whom she'd misidentified as the milkman, a Rockette dancer, and President Truman (although she told that bewildered agent that she was in full support of his policies, and he'd have her vote in the next election, provided he keep his eye on that dreadful Mr. McCarthy and his "communists"). NCIS elected to station two agents in her house, ones who could tolerate her delusions.<p>

That left Gibbs' mind free to work on finding Ducky. To do that, he reasoned, he'd have to think like Ari.

But what was Ari thinking about?

* * *

><p>Ducky surveyed the boundaries of his (admittedly cozy) cell. Besides the bookcase, there was also a desk and things that went with the desk; an armchair and ottoman; an oriental rug on the hardwood floor; a few landscapes in oil on the wall. It was hard to tell where those scenes were.<p>

There were two windows; this room was evidently on a corner of the house. The windows could open a little for air, but just that, and there did not seem to be anything to climb down on, should the windows be opened further. He'd check it out by light of day, when that came.

For now, the hour was late…very, very late, he saw by his watch. The tension of the hours started to catch up with him. Taking off most of his clothes, he climbed into the bed, and fell asleep…if not immediately, at least soon afterwards, wondering how long it would take Jethro to rescue him. Yes. That was the one thing that would keep him sane in this ordeal: the knowledge that his friend would move mountains…no, continents…to find and free him from this madman.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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><p>The next day dawned bleak; a continuation of the rain from the night before. Ducky woke around 7, as he always did; needing no alarm. He was exhausted, with no sense of when it was that he might have fallen asleep, but it had been late—perhaps four o'clock; perhaps five. Only for a moment did the unfamiliar surroundings startle him, and then he remembered. He wasn't afraid—not yet, anyway—but he was irritated by the whole matter. <em>Why couldn't Ari Haswari do the noble thing and just have it out with Gibbs, without resorting to stealing pawns in this mad chess game of his design?<em> Ducky had no doubt that Gibbs would come out the winner. Very, very few people could defeat Gibbs. Yes; once Gibbs tracked down Ari (and provided Gerald had made it to NCIS safely, they would know to look for Ari), this hell would be over, and the world would right itself again.

He considered going back to bed, for it beckoned to him, more so than getting dressed and fighting to stay awake. But before he had to make that decision, a key turned in the lock of the door and Ari entered, carrying a covered tray. "Good morning, Doctor," Haswari said in a pleasant tone. "I made breakfast for myself, and when one is grilling things such as sandwich steaks, it's as easy to make enough for two as for one." He set the tray down on the desk, Indeed, lifting the dome lid of the plate revealed sandwich steaks, toast, two fried eggs, a container of yoghurt, and a glass of orange juice. "You take your coffee…how?"

Ducky's lips twitched in slight displeasure. "In the form of tea, actually."

"Tea. Ah, my mistake. Well, you can wash out the coffee cup. There should be tea in the cupboard."

Ducky continued to frown a bit, and then realized some further response was expected. "Erm…thank you for the breakfast."

"You're welcome. Don't count on this every day; likely as not, you'll have to forage for yourself most of the time. But I'll see that you're kept well-supplied here. I would not have you starving on my watch."

"Very kind of you."

Ari chuckled. "I admire your wit, Doctor. Now I have business to attend to, but we shall chat later."

When Ari had departed, Ducky pulled up the desk chair and ate his breakfast. Then he thoroughly washed out the coffee cup (although, he discovered, there were two mugs in the cupboard) and scrounged for tea. His hopes were limited, though. There was no stove, no hot plate, no electric kettle, even. He would be limited to boiling a cup of water in the microwave. As for tea bags…he sighed. All that he found was a box of a cheap, grocery store brand. The bags had been around long enough that they no longer had any scent. _This, sir, is inhumane._

He set aside the tea bags and went back to sleep for a few hours.

* * *

><p>When he woke around 11, he felt brave enough to try the tea. It wasn't <em>too<em> bad. It could have been worse. He took a shower and then got dressed. He grimaced, hating to wear clothes with a touch of the previous day's grime again…a long-held dislike. If this game of Ari's played out for several days before Gibbs appeared, Ducky hated to think what his clothes would be like then.

The room had a closet. Curious, Ducky opened the door to it and found a number of casual clothes for men, and close enough to his size that he might wear them if needed. He didn't want to wear clothes that weren't his own, however. With luck, it wouldn't come down to that. Next, he looked out the window. Alas, there was nothing to latch onto that would let him climb down from it, should he be able to open the window wider.

A search of the room produced nothing that would allow him to signal for help. No flashlight nor lantern; nothing really reflective to catch the sun (whenever it next appeared); the only mirror was in the bathroom, and that was heavily bolted to the wall. _Ari could entertain guests downstairs, and they would never know that I was here._

Now he was feeling discouraged, although part of his mind told him to have faith in Gibbs. There was little that Gibbs couldn't do.

_True, he hadn't been able to prevent Caitlin's death, but who could have seen that coming?_

_…just the madman in this house…_

_Am I guessing incorrectly? Am I to be Ari's next victim?_

_A long, drawn-out murder? Something to make Jethro suffer as he witnesses it?_

_Steady, Donald. Don't guess the worst. Particularly when you can't affect it, yet._

To quell his shaking feeling, he decided to immerse himself in a book, if it turned out that there were any worth reading. He pulled from the bookcase the first book that his hand touched. It turned out to be Jules Verne's_ Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea._ "I haven't read this since I was a lad," Ducky said aloud, in happy surprise. "Let's see what Captain Nemo is up to…" He took to the armchair and soon was deep into the story.

* * *

><p>Miles away, Gibbs, having been up for most of the night, knew only irritation. This was directed mostly at himself, for not yet having found his old friend. It was one of the injustices of the universe: you can't always protect those most in need of protection. Sometimes the criminals break through your defenses. But still…when it really mattered, down in the depths of your soul, you ought to be able to find some more power to fight back.<p>

He couldn't help thinking that _if only he could try harder,_ he'd be able to unlock the riddle of where Ari had taken Ducky.

It was too early to consider any belief that Ducky might be dead. Gibbs dismissed that possibility. He reasoned that Ducky was worth much more to Ari alive than dead, for Gibbs would be less careful in storming Ari's lair, wherever it was, if he wasn't so desperate to make a rescue.

He got into NCIS around 6:30 a.m. It would have to be a caffeine-heavy day. On the way in, he'd called Jenny, telling her (he should have _asked_, but he was not in the mood for niceties) his team wasn't taking any new cases while they looked for Ducky. She agreed to that. There was always another team in the area that could take a case.

Tony stirred when Gibbs walked by; Ziva and Tim were still asleep at their desks. So, Tony had bivouacked them at NCIS HQ for the night? Made sense, but it probably wasn't practical in the long run. Tony was a good, protective sheepdog, but he couldn't corral four people for a long time. No one could, without resorting to force. "Tony? Report."

"Uh, nothing new, boss. Quiet night. McGee was running down Haswari's number last I knew…I guess I, ah, fell asleep…"

"It's okay. McGee, talk to me."

"Er, uh, y-y-yes, b-b-boss." Under a look from Gibbs, Tim closed his eyes and began again. "That, uh, that phone number that Ari called you from. No go. It was a burn phone. Hasn't been used since; he's probably d- dumped it for another."

Gibbs frowned. Tim had largely been over his stuttering, until Kate's death. Tim could have been Ari's target then; they all knew that. It would be a foolish man who would not be at least a little afraid, but a wise leader would not acknowledge this. "Keep an eye out for anything."

Tony caught his eye and spoke quietly. "Boss, you're really sure that Ducky's still alive?"

"Yep. Ari feels there are other things he wants to do with his life besides kill me. He wants me to come to him, to rescue Ducky. I won't rush as much if Ducky is found dead. If he can ramp up the stress, by rushing to get there, he'll also think I'll be more likely to make a mistake."

"He doesn't know you very well, then, boss," Tim piped up, loyally.

Gibbs smiled slightly. "Everyone can make a mistake, McGee. I'm going to try not to."

* * *

><p>Ducky had fixed soup for himself at noon, having found some microwavable containers in the cupboard. A sandwich would have been nice to go with it, but there were no sandwiches. A container of sliced pears would have to do as a side dish. A better selection of food would be high on his list of demands, when it came to that. The idea of living on tasteless tea and cans of ginger ale was appalling.<p>

Ari did come by just before six, bearing another covered tray. Scents of chicken and luscious fragrances arose from it even before the domed lid was lifted. A cold bottle of beer was also on the tray, and half an apple pie. "You are trying to get into my good graces?" Ducky asked with half a chuckle.

"There is no need to treat you badly, Doctor. Simply that."

"Perhaps you should have considered stocking the room with worthwhile tea, then," Ducky grumbled.

"My apologies. What would you like me to get from the market? Within reason? Yes, I'm serious. I need to go out tomorrow, anyway."

Ducky stared for a moment, and then wrote a quick, short list.

Ari read it. He smiled wryly at the final item. "_A way for me to get out of here._ No, sorry, Doctor. You are my guest for awhile yet."

"Your _guest_! Say it for what it is, man. I am your _captive_; your_ prisoner of war_, not bound by the Geneva Convention, sadly. Were I your _guest_, I would not be held against my will in a small room with no clue as to where I even am."

"But have I mistreated you? No."

"But—"

"Doctor Mallard, I, too am a man of medicine, as you know. I took an oath. _Primum non nocere._ 'First, do no harm.' I respect and honor life."

"You murdered Caitlin Todd!"

Ari looked away. "Humans are not perfect beings. We flit from war to war, and in every war there are casualties. 'Collateral damage,' as American military says when it's civilians. Caitlin was…her loss was unfortunate."

"_Unfortunate_!"

"Believe me, I had many regrets, some of which I still hold. Still…I do what I must. We each live by a code, Doctor; at least, the more reasoned among us do. That we could all be nice to each other and live in flowers under rainbows is but a dream. The truth is, as I have said, humans are not perfect beings. Some are, however, a lot closer to it than others. I just…even out the odds a bit more with what I do."

"You _murder_ people. That is _inexcusable_!"

"Is it? To right an injustice? People of great wealth may never lift a finger in their domination over others. But when they pay others to do their dirty work in the name of oppression, they are every bit as guilty as the man whose hand grips the knife's hilt. I see myself as…a patriot. A liberator."

Ducky shook his head and his finger. "You attempted to cause an international incident by blowing up a few hundred Navy families with a target drone. You, sir, are a _disgrace_ to the human race."

"So American you are, to think in terms of black and white., Doctor. I urge you to open your mind and consider, as a philosopher, other views. That is all I am asking; just for you to consider them."

"You bastard. Never. _Never_! I know what is right and what is wrong."

Ari only laughed a little as he departed, once more locking the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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><p>It was on the next day that Ducky realized he was losing his fear of his ordeal. The fear had been replaced with ennui. While the book he had started the previous day was interesting, it couldn't hold his attention. After an early bottle of orange juice and half a chapter read, Ducky set the book aside and did some aerobic exercises before taking a shower.<p>

He then thought of plotting an escape…but on the other hand, the weather was gloomy and the window cold to the touch. It really was a nicer day to stay inside. _Strange that I should feel that way,_ he thought, and then thought again. _On the other hand, perhaps the soldier's all-consuming duty to escape is nothing like real-life drama. I am a poppet, and a prisoner of war. Yet there is value to my life as well…and perhaps I should not take unnecessary risks. Be sensible; not rash._

Yet he couldn't shake the notion that being comfortable was not something to be valued above all else. There was an unquenchable desire to be free; to live his own life and do his daily tasks and his job…_My job! However are they managing without me?_ He shook away an unbidden mental image of Jimmy running Autopsy all by himself, appalling half the HQ staff. Until Jethro knocked him flat, that is. No, Jimmy was not that capable yet; surely they would see that. They would bring in someone to substitute for him. In time, that person would take over completely, and…

This line of thinking would lead only to madness, he realized. Things weren't really so bad, as it was. Captives were often portrayed as being shackled in dungeons. What he missed most was knowing what was going on in the outside world. No TV here. No radio. No computer. No phone…although that was to be expected, in this pretty little dungeon.

Ducky almost wasn't surprised when Ari came up with a breakfast tray (although he had been about to get out cold cereal and milk). French toast today, with sausages and a peach. The rising scent of cinnamon was appealing.

"What is happening in the world outside?" Ducky asked, stalling Ari's departure with the empty tray. "I have no news, no frame of reference…"

"You haven't missed much, Doctor," Ari said with a chuckle. "The stock market is about the same. There are celebrities marrying, divorcing, having babies. There is tension in the usual places in the world. Nothing out of the usual."

"Aha. So you, at least, have tuned into the news."

Ari shrugged.

"And you speak of tension in the usual places. Does that pique your interest?"

"Meaning, Doctor?"

"Well, you are a political man. You have your issues that drive you."

"Don't we all? I dare say, Doctor; just as I have mine, you have yours."

"But the difference is—"

"Slight. The difference is slight. Not much more than the philosophy of two political parties in a country. I am striving for a world in which we can all live in peace, the way that God meant us to live. No, no—" Ari held up a hand. "—yes, our methods to that end are different. But in our hearts, the goal is the same. We may take different paths to that goal, and work by means of which the other does not approve, but you see, Doctor, we are all human. All human. It is Fate that has each of us born where we were born, and raised in the cultures in which we were raised. We could have been born in other lands, in other societies, and grown up with different points of view…but we are all wired with some degree of honesty, loyalty, and compassion."

"But we _are_ different. I would never countenance the killing of people as you have!"

"Is that true, Doctor? I have studied your past. You are not entirely a pacifist. You have military experience, for one thing."

"I am a _doctor_! As are you. I took an oath—"

"As did I. The Hippocratic Oath. I do not believe I am in violation of it. I am working...for the greater good." He looked at his watch. "But I have things I must attend to, much as I would like to stay and chat. I enjoy having the company of an educated man, such as you, Doctor. I will be by later."

He left, and Ducky looked out on the damp day, sipping the last of his orange juice.

* * *

><p>Gibbs looked out at the same damp view. He was not one given to looking out windows, normally. Weather would do what it would do, so looking at it was not productive.<p>

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jenny coming toward him. "Jethro, you need to be working," she scolded quietly as she came between the large squad room window and him.

"Team's at it," he said, equally quietly. "Just because I'm thinking doesn't mean I'm not working."

"I don't need to tell you that every hour—"

"Then don't."

She frowned, and he turned to her. "Jen, we're tracing leads. Calling every possible contact. Getting names from our contacts of friends of theirs who we can call. Fornell's doing the same at the FBI. This is one of the bigger, quiet, manhunts in the area in years."

Jenny bit her lip. "Keep me informed," she said, and turned back for her office.

* * *

><p>In many ways, Ducky figured, his experience was like a little vacation. While he hadn't been able to choose the date or site, there was no denying that he was well cared for. There was "room service", a comfortable bed, and so many books at his disposal.<p>

_Books!_ Genuine ink on paper (sometimes gilded) between hard covers. The young people of today lacked the reverence for these worlds of adventure. Most of them, anyway. How else could one travel around the world, or through space, or time, without having to leave the arms of one's chair? No internet, no movie, no TV show could as thoroughly draw one in and let one's mind paint the pictures as a book did…not since we stopped listening to storytellers tell stories to us.

The day flew by, and he was surprised by Ari's appearance at the door. Six o'clock! The grim day had shrunk into a dark, damp twilight.

"I am making a habit of cooking for you, it seems," Ari said with a laugh. "I hope that a medium-well done steak is acceptable?"

"Yes, that's quite all right," said Ducky, his mouth watering at the thought. He'd been so busy reading that he hadn't even stopped for lunch. How kind of Ari to fix him dinner! Ari had put cold cuts in the refrigerator, after all.

"Good. I should have asked beforehand. One never knows."

"No, really; I am quite happy with that. Thank you."

The tray also had a small salad, some veggies, a clump of grapes, a slice of blueberry pie, and a bottle of wine. Ducky was pleased. "Will you have a glass with me?" he offered, not just out of innate courtesy.

But Ari hadn't even sat down. "I cannot. Too much work to do tonight, but I thank you for the invitation." Then he snapped his fingers. "I'm forgetting something. Hold on…" He walked swiftly out, though of course taking care to lock the door behind him.

A few minutes later he was back, carrying a brown paper bag. "I picked these up for you. Enjoy, and now, I'll bid you good night, Doctor." And again he left.

Ducky looked inside the bag, and then he smiled, almost to the point of tearing up. There was an electric tea kettle, a couple different containers of tea leaves, and additional milk, sugar packets, lemon and honey…no one could wish for more. Now, even more than before, this place was feeling comfortable.

Giving a tea kettle was a simple gesture, but it touched Ducky more than he could say.

* * *

><p>The sun shone between puffy clouds the next morning and was reflected in the south-facing squad room windows. Tony hung up the receiver on this desk phone shortly after 8. "Boss, got something. Little town of Ten Trees, in far northwestern Maryland, beyond Cumberland. Resident complained to the local LEOs of a man who's come into the general store a couple times, a man who has a 'furrin' accent." He emphasized the word. "That local yokel doesn't trust people with 'furrin' accents. The 'furriner' matches the description of Ari."<p>

"Xenophobia may pay off for once, boss," Tim remarked.

"Any sign of Ducky?" asked Gibbs.

"No. I asked, and the sheriff who called had seen the BOLO," said Tony.

Gibbs reached into his drawer for his gun, and then looked up in surprise on seeing his team swiftly ready with their gear. "Did I say that _we_ were going anywhere?" he snapped. "Ari wants _me_ there. Just _me_."

"He has Ducky, Gibbs. That concerns all of us," said Ziva. She'd been with the team only weeks, but the look on her face showed how much she already valued the old man.

"And you may need us to mop up when you're done with Ari, boss," Tony said with a tight smile.

"Oh, all right. Come on," Gibbs sighed. "We'll take two cars. And someone grab Palmer and bring him along. If that bastard has hurt Ducky, I don't want to wait an extra minute for medical help to get there."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

><p>There was a hint of sunshine the next day, behind thin, murky clouds. Ducky took that as a sign of change…but in which direction? The worry about <em>not knowing<em> made him more uneasy than the dismal rain of the last few days had.

When breakfast wasn't delivered at the usual time, Ducky fended for himself, pulling out cold cereal and milk from the room's supplies. Some sugar and a sliced banana on top fit the bill, along with some cheese and crackers. He brewed a pot of tea and wondered where his benefactor was today.

Ari appeared shortly after noon, brimming with apologies.

"There is no need, my good man, to go on so," Ducky tutted, kindly. "You have supplied me with so much provender that I could live for weeks!"

" 'Provender', eh?" Ari's lips quirked. "I had thought that meant dry food for cattle. Has it another meaning?"

"That is its principal meaning, true," said Ducky. "But it also means food supplies in general, whether for beasts or humans."

"Ah. I am always learning something from you, Doctor. Delightful! I shall remember that. Now, the reason I have come up here is to invite you, if you are willing, to spend a few hours downstairs with me in the library. I have been researching 18th century medical practices in Arabia, and some of my findings are most interesting with regards to first aid. I could bring them up here to your room, but there are several books and they are heavy."

"I should enjoy seeing them. Lead on!"

Ari hesitated. "Have I your word, as a doctor and a gentleman, that you will not try to escape?"

In truth, the idea of escaping hadn't occurred to Ducky this day. "But of course. On my honor." And he meant it,

The texts were compelling. Ducky could not read Arabic, so Ari helped him with those books. There were a few volumes in English or French, though, which were a pleasure to Ducky to pore over. The two men sat in the house's library, a room with many floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with the tantalizing smell of old leather binding. Every once in a while they would call out to one another an amazing find, and then chuckle, gape, or shake their heads at the limits of the earlier days. Ari already had tea and cookies set out in the library, and the chairs were supremely comfortable.

"Americans really do have the right idea," said Ducky, after a bite. "There is nothing quite like a chocolate chip cookie." His companion smiled and nodded, helping himself to one from the platter.

Ari's acute hearing made him turn his head toward the door. Ducky thought he heard something like a car motor, but he couldn't be sure. Here the younger man had him at an advantage. Ah, the slow wearing down of the body functions by merciless Age!

"Stay comfortable here, Doctor," said Ari, rising.

"Is there a problem?"

"Nothing I can't deal with." Ari opened the library door and stood in the doorway, looking out into the main entranceway of the house. Ducky shrugged and went back to the book in his lap.

He looked up again, scarcely a minute later, at the sound of a commotion. "You son of a bitch, Ari! Where do you have him?" came a voice he knew.

"Jethro. Oh, no," Ducky whispered. This was all going to go wrong. Jethro couldn't understand…Setting down the priceless book carefully, Ducky struggled a bit to get out of the deep, plush chair, and forced his creaking legs to propel him toward the doorway. "Jethro!"

"Duck? Stay back, Duck. I'll get you out of this."

Ari looked to his right and to his left. "You and what army, Agent Gibbs?" he said with a snort. "You are trespassing on private property. The good Doctor and I are simply having a discussion of medical history."

"We are having a delightful, time, Jethro," Ducky agreed, worry now filling his blue eyes. He knew that Gibbs didn't like Ari. He didn't know him, didn't understand him as Ducky did. A highly educated man, erudite in speech (in more than one language!), companionable…this was the Ari Haswari that Ducky had come to know. Gibbs wouldn't understand. He would do something rash.

"Let him go, Ari," Gibbs growled, eyes boring into the other man's.

"And you are going to make me…how?" Ari taunted. In a flash, Ari had his own gun in hand, now matching Gibbs in armament. He had taken advantage of Ducky's proximity to him in drawing his weapon, knowing that Gibbs wouldn't get off a fast shot for fear of hitting Ducky.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "I know this is what you planned all along, Ari. You kidnapped my friend to lure me out. You haven't tried too hard to hide your location. It was me you wanted all along."

"So full of your self-importance, Gibbs," Ari laughed harshly. "Yet, it's true. I captured the minnow to lure the marlin."

"Then let him go. I'll take his place."

"In what, Gibbs?" Ari laughed. "In a shallow grave? Don't you love the peace of the countryside? No neighbors within earshot. No one to hear you digging."

Gibbs only glared at him.

"He hasn't hurt me, Jethro," Ducky put in. "Please! You've misunderstood him. We all have. Just because his methods may be different from ours doesn't mean that he isn't working toward peace…"

"He's a _killer_, Duck!" Gibbs acknowledged his old friend for the first time. "He's a _terrorist_. He's killed who-knows-how-many people! He shot _Gerald_!"

"Yes, perhaps, but…" Why was Jethro going on like this? This was only adding confusion!

"Drop your weapon, Gibbs," Ari commanded. "I think I have the upper hand here."

It was true. The positions were too difficult. _Why wouldn't Ducky get out of the way?_ Gibbs thought. Though even if he stepped away from the doorway, a misaimed or ricocheting shot could…

Slowly, Gibbs bent over, keeping his eyes on Ari's face as he set his sig on the floor. He then gave it a little push toward the other man.

"Good. Now, down on your knees, with your hands behind your head." He waited until Gibbs complied, and then proceeded to aim.

A shot cracked the air, and Ducky, so torn, fell back with a wince.

"You would execute an unarmed man; you cur!" Ziva snarled, the scent of her sig's shot blasting her nose. Ari lay mostly in the library. He would never get another chance to kill Leroy Jethro Gibbs, or anyone else.

"My God. My God. What have you done?" Ducky demanded as he knelt beside the man who had been his kind and dutiful host, feeling for a pulse. There was none, of course, and he knew there wouldn't be, due to the massive head trauma. But he had to try. It was part of his professional duty. "_Why_, Ziva? _Why_, Jethro?"

"Ducky, he would have killed Gibbs. And then he would have killed you," Ziva replied.

"No…no…I'm sure you are mistaken! He would never…"

Tony and Tim appeared, breathless, having broken in the back door. Jimmy trailed them. "Everyone okay here?" Tony asked,

"No, Tony; everyone is _not_ okay!" Ducky snapped. "Ziva—I believe it must have been Ziva—shot down Ari in cold blood!"

"Duck, calm down."

"He would not have hurt anyone!" Ducky insisted. "He was…he would have…you should have seen how well he treated me, Jethro! We had such fine meals together. And the discussions! They were…vastly entertaining. His mind was so keen."

"Duck…"

"He bought me an electric tea pot, Jethro! _A tea pot!_ Just so I could have tea the way it's meant to be served. I had a very nice room upstairs, with amenities. Just today Ari invited me downstairs here, to read… He was a gentleman; a _gentle man_."

"No, he was not," Ziva said firmly, to the surprise of the others. "I…let us say that I knew him better than all of you. He had at least two sides. But the dominant side was the killer. Ducky, he brought you downstairs to be part of his plan to trap Gibbs."

"I will not believe that!"

Jimmy looked at the doctor gravely. "Doctor Mallard, I think you're suffering from Stockholm syndrome."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Palmer!" Ducky snapped. "Surely I would know better than to let such uncalled-for sympathies overwhelm my sense of right and wrong."

"Not given the stress you've been under, Ducky," said Tim.

"It can develop in a matter of hours," Jimmy said, gently. "And you've been a captive here for days."

"Come on, Duck; let's get you home. I want to have you looked over at the hospital."

"I…well; I suppose that would be all right, Jethro. If you think that's a good idea."

"I do."

Gibbs put an arm around his friend's shoulder, and guided him out. Ducky felt…not exactly frail, but weakened, as if he'd lost something.

"We'll clean up here, boss," Tony called, and he, Tim, Ziva and Jimmy got to work. He was surprised to see a flicker of sadness on Ziva's face as she looked at the body.

Then she brushed her hands and said, "Let us get this scum out of here."


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

><p><em>Three months later…<em>

Gibbs walked into Autopsy to find Ducky immersed in his latest case: corpse cut open, instruments at the ready, Jimmy assisting and taking notes. All looked as it should be, but…

"How ya doing, Duck?"

"Fine. Fine, Jethro," Ducky grunted. "I have no news for you yet on this case."

'Okay. When you do." Gibbs turned away, but not without a quizzical look first. "Ya sure?" It wasn't the case he was asking about, and all present knew that.

"Jethro, I think I know my own mind!" A scalpel slipped from Ducky's hand and clattered to the floor.

"I'll get that, Doctor," Jimmy said swiftly, and picked up the scalpel, taking it to the sink to wash.

"I just…it takes _time_," Ducky said, holding out his empty hands. "My sleeping is getting better, slowly. The sleeping drugs help. I haven't missed an appointment with the psychotherapist, but…it is taking _time_. Time which could be spent on better things."

"It takes what it takes."

"Yes, and I do not want to go to my grave with this feeling of PTSD. I want it _gone_. How I could have fallen under Ari's spell? How could I have ever seen anything likable in him? _How_?"

"You sought out something less than terrible in your captivity," said Jimmy. "It's said that Hitler loved his dog. That doesn't make him any less of an evil man, but you know…some people might glom onto that as a sign that he wasn't entirely a monster." He shook his head. "Not that _I'd_ accept that."

"The more fool me, then," Ducky said gloomily.

"You're not a fool, Duck," said Gibbs, studying the older man's face. "You did what you needed to do to survive. There's no shame in that."

_Shame? Maybe that's what's wrong with me. I feel shame. Cowardly. Ineffectual. _

Gibbs' phone rang, and he walked out, already talking on it. When Jimmy left a minute later to take samples to Abby, Ducky was alone with the corpse before him…and the one he could still see in him mind, lying partway into the house's library.

Ziva came by a little later when Ducky was alone again. He was a bit surprised to see her. He didn't know her that well, and she kept her personal life bottled up. He respected her desire for privacy, and had never coaxed her to talk about herself.

"Is there something I can do for you, my dear?"

"It has been three months, to the day, since you were rescued," she said without preamble. "I was concerned for you. You are not the same…jolly? No perhaps that is not the right word. _Cheerful_ man I first met."

He harrumphed. "I should think you would have more to worry about, Ziva. I know a bit about your background…"

"I trained as an assassin."

It was always disquieting to hear such a statement. "Yes, well…: he floundered.

"Does that upset you, Ducky?"

"I am sworn to _save_ lives, not to _take_ them," he said firmly. "But you…"

"I think I save lives, too, in a way," she said. "People do not like thinking about _good_ and _evil_ being in the world. But it is there, and evil will not go away by ignoring it."

"But is it for us to judge what is evil? And furthermore, to act on this?"

"I believe you know the answer to your first question, Ducky. Identifying it does not make the eradication of evil easier."

"You are speaking of shades of gray. The good qualities that exist inside an evil person."

"Evil acts. Evil persists, and grows. Evil kills more and more people unless it is stopped. I could not let Ari kill Gibbs and you. I had to stop him." She lowered her head for a moment and then raised it. "None will mourn him."

"You do not know that. He may have had friends, colleagues, family…"

She sniffed, just once. "_I_ was his family. Ari was my half-brother. Few people know this."

"My heavens! Ziva, your half-brother…!"

"Do not cry for me. Do not cry for him, either. He made his choices in life. When we were young…he was a kind older brother. And then…"

"I…I don't know what to say."

"In a way, I am glad that you saw his charming side. We have not talked much about it, but perhaps, when you are beyond the PTSD, we can talk…and you can tell me about your conversations with him."

"I would like that very much, my dear," he said, and he then felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

- END -


End file.
